


Onto The Ice

by UnfortunatelyDisasterous



Series: Onto The Ice Series [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dance, Angst, BAMF Keith (Voltron), Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Coach Allura, Coach Shiro (Voltron), Dancer Keith (Voltron), Everyone else is a skater a basically, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Gay Keith (Voltron), I'm Bad At Tagging, Keith has a tragic backstory, Kinda, Klance au, Klance on ice, M/M, Slow Burn, figure skating, klangst, lance is a little shit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-11-19
Packaged: 2020-05-20 16:29:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19380460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnfortunatelyDisasterous/pseuds/UnfortunatelyDisasterous
Summary: Keith can’t help but feel like he’s about to be kicked off the team. He’s worked too hard to give up now. “Coach, I know I haven’t been giving it my best, but I promise you I will bring home that gold at Nationals. I’ll work my ass off every day until Regionals. I have so much more to give to the team, you can’t kick me off now-““-Whoa there kid!” Ulaz interrupts. “We’re not kicking you off the team!”Keith frowns. “You’re not?”“Not yet at least.” Kolivan confirms.Ulaz shoots him a warning look. “We’ve been speaking to Shiro about what to add to your routine and we have come up with a rather... out of the box solution.”Keith’s frown only deepens. “Do you want me to take up yoga or something?”“Actually figure skating.”OR:The one where Dancer Keith throws himself into the world of figure skating and realises he's f*cked.





	1. On Dry Land

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! This is my first ever fic so I already apologise. This work is completely unbeta-ed (that's not a word, idek), so I'll accept all the criticism I can get pls.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters or brands or anything mentioned so chill.  
> AND ALSO: This fix is heavily inspired by Minadora's 'On Thin Ice' so gO CHECK IT OUT - She's absolutely awesome, and I definitely wouldn't have thought of this without her.
> 
> Some basics about the story: It's basically a crossover between a dance fix (BOM) and a figure skating fic (VOLTRON). Mainly Keith-centric. The Broganes aren't related in this but may as well be - all will be explained near the end.
> 
> Finally, let me know if there's anything I forgot to tag, I'm pretty sure this will be a fairly tame fluffy fic but I don't want to trigger anybody. Beware any:  
> STRONG LANGUAGE  
> REFERENCES TO SEX  
> IMPLIED HOMOPHOBIA  
> HOMELESSNESS  
> PHYSICAL VIOLENCE
> 
> If you have any questions or comments let me know, my Tumblr is hidethebody and hope you enjoy!

Keith’s chest rises and falls heavily as he holds his final position, beaming out at the audience uncharacteristically. Nothing could compare to the high he feels as he drowns in applause. Keith stares out at the sea of faces, barely recognisable past the blinding spotlights, and simply basks in the feeling. 

But just as quick as it had arrived, the feeling is gone, replaced by an immense feeling of anxiety clouding in as Keith bows and makes his exit. 

He climbs the stairs and swerves through the corridors of the building dodging nervous competitors and stern coaches. Adrenaline and serotonin levels rapidly falling the further he travels from the stage.

Finally he approaches his coach, eyebrows furrowed and mouth pursed in thin line. A few dancers also from Marmora giggle in anticipation. Keith only has time to shoot them a fierce glare before returning his attention to Coach.

He doesn’t even make it all the way into the dressing room before Coach has already uncrossed his arms and stormed forward.

“What the hell was that Kogane?” 

“Hello to you too.” Keith balls his fists tightly, pulling himself into a defensive stance.

“Your footwork in the petit allegro section was sloppy at best, and where the fuck was your posture during your fouettes? You’re lucky you didn’t fall out of those turns.”

Keith fights to keep his face impassive but doesn’t quite manage to keep the frustration out of his voice. “I know I messed up on the jumps but those turns were way better than in practice. Come on, Coach.”

But Coach Kolivan isn’t done. “I know Ballet’s not your forte but, come on! You can’t pop and lock your way through competitions, Kogane! If you can’t even handle a simple lyrical routine I may need to rethink your position on the team.”

“Kolivan,” Ulaz starts, “Cut the kid some slack, his turns are improving you can’t deny that.” Keith was normally pretty indifferent towards Ulaz but in that moment he could have kissed the co-coach.

Coach only turns to face Keith again, ignoring Ulaz entirely. “You better fucking place Kogane or you can say goodbye to Regionals.” Then he turns on his heel and stalks off with Ulaz in tow.

Keith huffs out an angry breath and begins violently stuffing his belongings back into his bag; the scores will be read soon so the team needs to get to the auditorium again quickly. His feet carry him on autopilot, speeding ahead of his team until he reaches the busy hall, just in time to see the last solo dancer curtseying before she too hurries off the stage.

Keith had been a member of the Blade of Marmora for over three years now, shooting straight to the top of the team when he joined at age 14. The Blade was an old dance company with an esteemed reputation so Keith had caught the eye of many scouts in the past few years, booking job after job. But he remained on the team during completion season and had reaped the benefits. They were champions. The Blade had won gold at Nationals for three years in a row now in the group division, and Keith had a bronze medal, and a gold medal under his belt in the solo division.

Keith was at the peak of his competition career at age 18 – his final year at the circuit. But with the two gold medals from last year looming over him, Coach was breathing down his neck more than ever before. It was Keith’s last chance to win at Nationals before he moved on and he needed the win now more than ever – college scouts were supposedly his new targets to impress and everyone knew how hard that was to achieve.

Keith is snapped out of his thoughts by the call of his name sounding through the speakers and beckoning him back onto the stage.

48.1. Take that Coach.

Keith returns to the stage platform and instantly plasters on a wide smile. First place at the Qualifiers isn’t all that impressive in the grand scheme of Keith’s career, but it has ensured his place at Regionals so he’s glad all the same.

Through the crowds of polite clapping, Keith finds Coach’s stern eyes staring him down. Coach doesn’t say anything or react at all but Keith gets the message, loud and clear: Don’t get too comfortable.

>>>

The blaring of an alarm sharply jolts Keith awake. He groans and tosses a pillow in the general direction of the sound but the jarring buzz seems unaffected by the assault. Attempting to drown the sound out, Keith folds his remaining pillow over his ears and burrows deeper into the comfort of his covers.

Finally, the alarm quiets after a full minute of incessant buzzing and Keith sighs in relief, already succumbing to allure of sleep.

He finally begins to drift off when his phone once again roared to life. This time, Keith gives in and rolls over, reaching blindly for his phone. When he finally grasps hold of the offending device, he glares at it as though it had killed his cat and forcefully turns the alarm off.

Keith isn’t exactly a morning person and loathes the cruel morning classes Coach forces him to attend. Shiro, his adoptive older brother and roommate, is always telling him to go to bed earlier but Keith is simply a night owl at heart, no matter how hard he tries.

The only silver lining is that today’s class is hip-hop – there is a certain release Keith finds in the style, and despite the ungodly our, he is looking forward to it.

And so, Keith finds himself hauling his arse out of bed, throwing on some questionable-smelling sweats and dragging himself to class. But not before he gets his morning coffee.

When Keith arrives at his usual haunt, a small hole-in-the-wall coffee shop named ‘The Balmera’, the overly friendly barista is quick to welcome him.

After years of Keith trudging into the café looking like a zombie and growling in the typical ‘I’m-not-a-morning-person-so-give-me-coffee-or-I-will-kill-you’ fashion, Shay has grown used to his antics. 

So when he claws his way to the counter, Shay already seems to sense his mood and offers him a cheery smile, saying, “Good morning, Keith. I presume you wish to order your usual triple shot espresso?”

Keith manages a small smile and simply nods, already fishing for the cash.

Shay smoothly glides around the kitchenette, looking fully at ease. How she manages to make brewing coffee look so effortless and elegant Keith will never know.

“You look more… down than normal.” Shay notes as she slides his cup across the counter. “Is there anything bothering you?” The genuine interest and care in her tone catches him off guard. He looks up to see concern in her soft eyes.

“No, I’m fine, Shay, don’t worry.” She simply raises an eyebrow unimpressed. “It’s no big deal, Coach is just up my ass more than normal.”

Shay smiles kindly at him. “In that case you get a blueberry muffin on the house!” He tries to object but she simply raises a hand. “Nope, you will take the muffin! I’ve just tried a new recipe my boyfriend gave me and I want your full feedback tomorrow. Besides, a sweet treat makes any morning better.”

Keith considers refusing but after a few moments he realises she won’t take the muffin back even if he tried. So he musters up the most genuine smile he has to offer. “Thanks, Shay, really.”

“It’s no problem for my favourite customer!” She says, chipper attitude still in tact.

He turns to leave, scooping up the coffee and the muffin from the counter.

“And Keith!” She calls. He faces her one last time. “Just remember to enjoy yourself.”

And with her words on his mind, he heads out.

>>>

After a few hours of sweat, bruised knees and a hell of a lot of yelling from Coach, Keith was starting to feel more at ease. The low bass of the music thrums around him, vibrating through the floor and into the core of his soul. His hair sticks to the back of his neck but Keith can’t bring himself to care as he moves to the beat.

Kick, in, turn, arm-arm, throw then drop. The routine comes to life as he gives all he has to the moves. Coach’s harsh corrections only spur him on as he flows though the routine like he was born to dance. Power and strength course through his muscles as he pushes up from the floor in a complicated spin.

Ebb and flow. Hold and release. Tension shoots through him on the hits and instantly drains on command. Keith is in full control of his body, a master of movement.

It’s times like this, in the throws of a dance, that Keith feels truly free. Shay was right, he thinks as he savours the dance, for the first time in a while, he lets himself just feel the joy of dancing.

It doesn’t quite match performing for a crowd but it’s close enough for Keith.

When the class finally ends, he’s out of breath and aches all over, but he doesn’t regret going so hard today. He had needed the release.

He’s just about to leave when Kolivan and Ulaz approached him.  
“You were good today,” Kolivan says, Keith raises his eyebrows in surprise – that’s high praise from the Coach. “You’re the best on the team and you should know I’m only so hard on you because I, we, want the best for you. You have the potential for great things Kogane.”

“Thanks, Coach.” Keith manages to keep the suspicion and surprise out of his voice.

He goes on, “Look, kid, you’re an all-rounder, versatile. But I can’t help but notice the flaws in you’re technique. It’s letting you down in Contemporary and Ballet. And it’s bringing down the team. We’re beginning to wonder if you’ve peaked. I can’t have you jeopardising the school’s reputation. Now’s the only time you have to get that scholarship and impress those scouts, so something’s gotta be done. For you and the rest of the Blades.”

Keith can’t help but feel like he’s about to be kicked off the team. He’s worked too hard to give up now. “Coach, I know I haven’t been giving it my best, but I promise you I will bring home that gold at Nationals. I’ll work my ass off every day until Regionals. I have so much more to give to the team, you can’t kick me off now-“

“-Whoa there kid!” Ulaz interrupts. “We’re not kicking you off the team!”

Keith frowns. “You’re not?”

“Not yet at least.” Kolivan confirms.

Ulaz shoots him a warning look. “We’ve been speaking to Shiro about what to add to your routine and we have come up with a rather... out of the box solution.”

Keith’s frown only deepens. “Do you want me to take up yoga or something?”

“Actually figure skating.”

Keith’s mouth hangs open and he is frozen in place. The ground might as well swallow him whole right now. Shock and disbelief settle into his bones and all Keith can muster up is a simple: “WHAT?!”

Ulaz only smiles at him and begins to explain: “Along with a few extra Ballet classes and technique classes we think that you’ll benefit from some one-on-one figure skating classes with Shiro.”

Keith suddenly regains the ability to move and shakes his head vigorously, ready to bolt from the room. “No, no no nO, NO, NOOOO! How the hell will ice dancing of all things help me with lyrical? I don’t exactly need to glide around an ice rink in Regionals! What the hell is Shiro thinking?”

Kolivan intervenes. “Actually, we all agree on this. As your coaches we acknowledge this is a rather… unconventional method. However, Shiro was a certified Coach here before he moved to figure skating, you know this. We trust his expertise and there are actually quite a few students of his who tried this course and succeeded. It should improve your balance and posture in turns. And we even have hope that it may help with your footwork in jumps. We are aware this will be a rigorous training regime to accompany your school work, but we all think this is the best step to help your career progress.”

Keith opens his mouth to argue but is quickly cut off. “There will be no discussion – you either go through with the training regime we have designed or you give up your place on the team.”

Keith’s mind is a tornado as he stares at his two coaches. He suddenly feels off-balance, as through the rug had been pulled out from under him.

If he goes through with this stupid course, he will be forcing himself into months of exhausting training. And that includes figure skating – he shudders at the thought. He hasn’t skated since he was a kid, and even then he only did it to bond with Shiro. Eventually, Shiro left dance altogether years after Keith quit skating. It may have caused tensions at first but the siblings soon accepted that they had each chosen their own dance – Shiro chose ice and Keith chose land. While, Shiro was still deeply involved Keith’s career choices, it had been many years since they had trained together, especially on ice. Keith knows he’ll make a fool of himself if he goes through with this, and he doesn’t know if he can handle the torment for months on end. His schedule would be fuller than ever before. 

Then again, what other choice does he have? Missing out on competition season would mean the end of his career. Currently, Keith was living rent-free with his brother. He had recently graduated his online high school ahead of his age to focus on dance, so he needed a scholarship to pay for college. Of course he could try to dive straight into the industry without any qualifications, but for that, Keith would need to gain some attention. Keith needs Nationals now more than ever and if he has to start twirling on the ice to get there, he will get over himself and go for it. After all, Keith never backs down from a challenge and he’s worked too hard to fall back into the nothingness he came from.

With a resigned sigh, Keith lifts his eyes to his coaches and lets out a small but firm, “Okay. I’ll do it.”

As the pair smiles wickedly at him, Keith can’t help but wonder if this is all one big mistake.


	2. Frost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance makes an appearance...

“Pidge! PIDGE!! I’VE BEEN WAITING FOR TEN WHOLE FUCKING MINUTES YOU ASSHAT! WAKE THE HELL UP AND GET OUT HERE!”

Okay, maybe it was a little harsh but Keith has been standing in the pouring rain for way too long and it’s only seven in the morning. Pulling his jacket tighter around him to shield against the biting cold, Keith raps on the door once more.

He’s just about to resume yelling when the door is suddenly yanked open, revealing Pidge’s zombie-like form. 

“Well, don’t you look awake and ready to go?” Keith smirks. He may not be a morning person, but he is certainly doing better than Pidge this morning. Her short hair is spiked comically on one side and pancake-flat on the other, eye bags prominent behind her rimmed glasses.

“Coffee…” She simply murmurs. “And it’s too early for sass, asshole.”

“Hey, this asshole is your ride this morning. And the coffee will be on you as payment.”

“Ughhhh…” She groans, sinking further into the baggy hoodie she probably stole from Matt. “Let’s just go.”

Ten minutes and two strong coffees later, Pidge seems more awake, if her continuous prodding is anything to go by.

“So…” She ventures, “You looking forward to your first skating lesson in, what is it? 6 years now?”

Keith shoots her the most meaningful glare he can conjure up before quickly returning his eyes to the road. “Shiro’s lucky that the laws of this land prevent me from murdering him in his sleep because I swear to God…”

“I can’t believe your coaches triple-teamed you like that. But oh boy, am I looking forward to watching you die on the ice – I even brought Mom’s good camera!”

“Hey!” “Dude you suck ass at skating last time I checked.” “I was like 12!”

“I can see the headlines now – Local Emo Eats A Face-full Of Ice, Dies Of Embarrassment.”

“I thought you said it was too early for sass. And I’m not emo!”

“Your stupid hair literally screams emo, dude. I can hear MCR’s G-note just from looking at it.” She reaches over to ruffle his hair.

“Fuck offfff.” He moans, swatting her hand away as he pulls into the car park at the Altea rink. “I officially need new friends. You and Shiro have betrayed me; my new favourite is Matt.”

“Calm down, edgelord – Matt is an awful best friend, ask Shiro.” She grins at him as they step out of the car. “Besides, we’re the dream team. Who else would help you torment the older siblings?”

Keith rolls his eyes but replies good-naturedly, “I suppose your evil mastermind brain has saved you this time.”

“Damn straight Red!”

Keith sighs as he pushes open the door to the grand building.

>>>

Keith crashes to the ground for what feels like the hundredth time that day. The ice is unforgiving against his already sore butt, and he grunts as the air is knocked out of his lungs once more.

Skating, Keith has decided, is more of a challenge than he had originally anticipated.

“Nice one Keith!” Pidge calls. She seems to be enjoying this way too much for his liking, the camera hovering beside her grinning face where she sits in the stands. He shudders to think about the blackmail material this will give her for the future.

Flipping her the bird, Keith grits his teeth and hauls himself back to his feet. Shiro’s there in an instant, holding him steady, a concerned frown on his face.

“Sorry I couldn’t reach you in time. You seemed to be doing well. Are you okay?”

Keith makes a dismissive noise and gently pushes Shiro away so he can stand by himself.

Seeing the determination in his face, Shiro accepts this and nods once. The corner of his mouth pulled into a small smile. “Alright then. Try it again, but this time, remember to keep your shoulders back even further. You keep leaning forward to compensate for the extra spin you have on the ice. Release the tension from your shoulders and you should be able to get a clean turn without shifting your weight.”

Keith nods resolutely and pushes off into a simple lap. He tries the spin a few more times and they are most definitely wobbly, but somewhat better.

Keith had become pretty comfortable on the ice at the beginning the lesson, remembering the basics of skating almost immediately and managing a graceful glide as he skated laps around the rink. He couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride as his movement memory propelled him forward – just like riding a bike. This pride had been quickly squashed when Shiro announced they were moving onto tricks.

After a few wipe-outs, Keith managed some lunges, bunny hops, and pumps without much trouble, rapidly moving onto mohawks, chassés and crossovers. Despite the lack of difficulty of the steps, Keith was feeling quite accomplished as he blazed through the beginner’s course. The moves were more difficult than he remembered, but he was determined not to let this throw him. 

The trouble had come with the spins – one-foot and two-foot spins meant Keith had tasted the ice more than he’d like.

He couldn’t help but feel as though he was breaking every rule he’d ever learnt about turns – the foot positioning was all wrong, the weight distribution was alien to him and Keith was deeply disturbed by the lack of spotting as he spun.

He knew this was supposed to be helping his posture and balance but Keith found himself hunching over to accommodate for the extra slip on the ice and consequently falling out every turn quite ungracefully. Keith feels completely out of whack as he desperately tried to stick to the proper skating technique and forget everything his dance coaches had ever told him.

Keith concentrates on Shiro’s voice from where he’s skating nearby and tries to pull his shoulders back as he propels himself into another single-footed spin. He maintains his balance for one turn before the tension builds in his upper body and his weight accidently shifts.

Keith once again finds himself slamming against the cold ground.

He balls his fist is frustration and lets out an angry grunt. Why the hell was this so hard?

He hears someone skating towards him, followed by a hand held out in his peripheral vision.

“Hey there buddy, I think you may have just fallen for me. Need a hand?”

Keith looks up in surprise at the handsome stranger. Earnest ocean eyes stare at him amusedly as his lip quirks in a confident smile. The guy is tall with rich tan skin and a lean build. Keith notices his impressive skates and surmises he must be one of the more professional students like Pidge. She normally has rehearsals at ten but had come early to witness Keith’s inevitable struggle.

“Hello? Earth to Mullet? You gonna take my hand or not?”

Keith realises he had been frozen like a gaping idiot and fights to maintain a casual expression. Then, he frowns at the insult and pushes up himself, ignoring the offered hand. The guy may be a bombshell but Keith already doesn’t appreciate his arrogant attitude.

“It’s not a mullet.” Keith growls out.

“Ha! I told you your hair is weird!” Pidge’s voice rings out triumphant as she skates over to join them, closely followed by two other skaters.

“It’s not a mullet.” Keith repeats, louder this time.

“Sorry, Keith, but it kind of is.” Shiro chuckles, joining the group that is rapidly forming.

Keith sends him a look of betrayal that quickly morphs into Keith’s signature glare. Shiro only ignores him in favour of greeting the other skaters.

“Hey team! I’d like to introduce you to my brother Keith, he’s an asshole at first but don’t let that fool you.”

Keith begins to protest but Pidge cuts him off excitedly. “Man, I can’t believe you’re finally meeting the whole team! You remember Allura, right? And this is Hunk Garrett – he makes the most amazing cookies! And this is Lance McClain! He’s a bit off a loudmouth but you get used to it.”

Keith still wants to strangle Shiro, but Pidge seems very enthusiastic about him meeting her team, so for his best friend’s sake, he swallows his anger and turns to face the newcomers.

“Yes, Keith and I know each-other.” Allura confirms with a wide smile, surprising him with a short but strong hug. Her long white mane is bundled up in a voluminous ponytail that flows behind her. “It’s so nice to see you again, Keith. And on the ice no less!”

He’s met Allura Altea many times over the past few years since she is Shiro’s skate partner, but he doesn’t know her all to well. To be honest he finds her grace and impressive elegance somewhat intimidating but it most definitely helps her on the ice if her angelic gliding is anything to go by.

“It’s lovely to see you again too, Allura.” He returns her smile hesitantly.

“It’s nice to meet you.” The tall one, Hunk, he recalls, holds out a hand. The guy is intimidatingly big but his expression is soft and friendly so Keith takes his hand and murmurs a returning greeting. 

Finally he turns to Mr Sex On Legs – Lance, apparently, who seems to have been waiting to make a grand introduction.

“Lance is the name, although my friends call me ‘The Tailor’ because of how I thread the needle!” He punctuates the statement with a dramatic turn and deep bow. He then finishes by grabbing Keith’s hand and kissing it with a flourish. “But you can call me anytime.”

Keith pulls his hand back sharply, as though it had been burned, and fights to keep his blush at bay. By the look of Shiro’s smirk he’s not succeeding.

Pidge unknowingly saves him from torment as she complains loudly. “Ughhhh. Can you not flirt with all my friends, Lance? Seriously, it’s gross dude. And who the fuck calls you ‘The Tailor?’”

“I can’t help it when pretty guys come waltzing in, Pidge. Even if does have a gross Mullet.”

Keith frowns. “I’m right here asshole.”

“It’s a mullet dude, don’t deny it. It belongs in the 90s but if your gonna have one, you gotta own it.” Lance says matter-of-factly. Keith doesn’t know whether to feel insulted or flattered in this conversation. After a moment of battling, he settles on insulted.

“And when did I ask for your opinion?” Keith bites out.

“That’s enough guys,” Shiro jumps in smoothly before turning to Keith. “Now, we’re about to start rehearsal so I think we should end your first lesson here. We’ll do a quick cool down while everyone gets warmed up then you’re free to go.”

Keith nods and moves to go cool down when Pidge stops him. 

“Wait, Red! Practice is only an hour; would you mind sticking around so we can grab some food together after?”

Keith raises an eyebrow. “You just want me to pay for your food and give you ride home, don’t you?”

Pidge simply shrugs. “Matt’s still out of town so I need a ride. You down or what?”

Keith doesn’t have class until one so he has plenty of time. “Fine.” Pidge lets out a satisfied smirk before they part ways.

>>>

When Keith comes back to the rink after a shower, his skates are safely in his bag and he has changed into normal clothes for brunch with Pidge. He slips into a seat a few rows up and lets his attention drift to the dancers on the ice.

Pidge and Lance seem to have the floor to themselves right now, running through a routine together. Keith knew Pidge had recently started skating doubles so Lance must be her new duet partner then.

Keith doesn’t know all that much about figure skating if he’s honest, but he knows dancing. These two are good at what they do, great even. Pidge has a few medals under her belt so he guesses he should have expected that. They move quickly and in synchrony gliding across the ice like they were born to be there.

It’s nice watching Pidge look so comfortable despite the fact that she’s being thrown in the air so often, and Keith finds himself smiling even though no one can see from where he’s hidden away. 

Then his eyes drift to the other dancer. Lance.

He’s long-limbed and gangly as hell but he moves with grace and Keith can’t seem to take his eyes off him. Those strong thighs push off into a perfect jump, landing with impeccable posture and without a hair in place. His eyes sparkle with something Keith knows all to well – that cocktail of joy, nerves and determination that fuel any performer.

Lance seems to notice his presence and smiles cockily.

Keith watches as they both land a series of complicated jumps like its nothing. And then they start to spin. Keith has always loved watching people pirouette in perfect sync, but there’s something about watching it on ice that enthrals him – Keith hasn’t found himself this excited about watching anyone dance in a long time. It’s easy to see how someone could fall in love with the sport, but Keith can’t imagine himself moving like that.

All the frustration of the last few hours flashes in his mind. Keith will never be able to be a part of something like this and he can’t help but feel out of place in the skate rink. It’s amazing to watch these dancers but deep down Keith knows that he doesn’t belong here, with his wobbly two-foot spins and his barely there waltz jump.

Pidge and Lance spin to a stop at the end of their routine and are immediately bombarded by the rest of the team. Smiles, laughter, claps on the back. There’s a twinge in his stomach as Shiro and Allura praise them, weaving in some fair criticism. He wonders what it would be like if the BOM had this camaraderie, if Coach spoke like Shiro or Allura.

He tries not to dwell on it as Pidge and Lance skate back to the centre and begin their routine again. Keith can’t see much of a difference but Shiro and Allura seem even more pleased the second time round.

And so the rehearsal goes on, time draining quicker than ever before. Keith is mesmerised watching them, all of them, in their respective routines. He’s more inspired than he’s felt in a long time and he feels the disappointment settle in when the class draws to a close.

Keith may not belong on the ice with them, but he knows he’s hooked on figure skating all the same. And Keith never gives up on a challenge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...And that's chapter 2! Sorry it took forever (I kind of forgot above this fic ngl).
> 
> How is everyone liking Lance? Let me know in the comments pls. I hope I do him justice.


	3. Thaw

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm a cheesy fucker and it's bonding time.

Lance practically inhales the pancakes in front of him, a syrupy pile of heavenly goodness.

“Hunk Garrett,” he moans out. “Will you please marry me?”

Hunk dramatically holds a hand to his heart and gasps loudly. “You only want me for my cooking.” He accuses.

Lance leans back on the coach and throws his hands up wildly. “That’s not rue buddy. You’re my number one bro and sweet as hell. If you weren’t already taken, I would’ve swept you off your feet long ago.”

Hunk only chuckles, placing some plates in the dishwasher. “We should get going now or Allura might actually skin us alive for being late again.”

“Ugh, why is it so hard for her to understand that mere mortals like you and I need time and beauty sleep to achieve ultimate hotness.” Lance pulls himself to his feet, bringing his plate to the kitchen.

“Speak for yourself bro,” Hunk takes the plate from him. “I’m not the one who spends an hour on his skincare every day.”

Lance gasps at the betrayal. “At least my skin is baby smooth!”

“Whatever you say, Lance.”

It’s late morning when they arrive at Altea this time – later than normal but they didn’t have a scheduled practice until now. Class went smoothly as normal, everyone going over their respective routines. Lance normally skates solo, but he had recently begun skating with Pidge because he wanted to challenge himself. Allura and Shiro were really pushing the team hard this year, which made practices pretty exhausting, but the exhilaration of nailing a routine always made the suffering worth it. Plus, he was really enjoying working closer with Pidge.

They are just starting to cool down when Shiro calls out to someone walking in. Lance makes out a familiar mop of raven hair as the figure comes into view.

“Hey, Keith, why don’t you get your skates on and come on out here?” Keith grunts his assent and Lance finds himself frozen. 

Before he knows it, Keith is skating over and Lance is trying desperately to reel in the gay (well, bi if we’re being technical). If Keith had looked hot last week, he was flaming today. Keith’s slightly damp hair is pulled into a messy bun exposing the nape of his neck. A few strands of dark hair frame his startling violet eyes. He’s shed the leather jacket he entered with, and now stands before them in only leggings that hug his arse oh so well and a deep gray crop top. 

A FUCKING CROP TOP! Lance thinks he might faint.

“Hey Red,” Pidge greets him. “Is it raining or something?”

Keith’s nose wrinkles adorably as he answers. “No, I just came straight from class. It’s only a block away. That’s why I haven’t had time to change or anything.”

“Gross, dude. You probably stink.” Pidge comments. Lance can’t help but appreciate how the light sheen of sweat makes Keith’s pale collarbones shine.

Keith merely shrugs apologetically. Lance is vaguely aware that a conversation springs into action, Keith looks slightly uncomfortable at all the attention on him.

“So you’re a dancer?” Hunk asks. 

“Wait, what?” Lance can’t stop himself as the words slip out; he’s assaulted by the image of a sexy Keith rippling around a dance floor.

Keith just raises an eyebrow questioningly. “Uh, yeah. I’m a dancer in the Blade of Marmora.”

The name doesn’t ring any bells in Lance’s head but Hunk perks up. “Oh my God. I’ve seen some YouTube videos of you guys at Nationals last year. You were amazing, I can’t believe I didn’t recognise you! What styles do you do?”

Keith bites his lip subconsciously. “Er, basically most of them. You know, Street, Tap, Commercial, a little bit of Jazz and some Modern Contemporary. I’m actually here to improve my posture and balance in Ballet and Lyrical Contemporary.” He pauses before adding, “I don’t to Acro or Disco, though. Those dancers are crazy flexible, couldn’t handle that.”

“That’s very impressive Keith!” Allura smiles.

Keith looks like he’s about to protest but Pidge stops him. “Red here would never say it, but the asshole’s actually pretty fucking amazing. I’ve seen him dance at a few competitions and Keith’s a legend on the dance floor. He’s even the reigning winner of Nationals currently.”

“Pidge…” Keith looks torn between being flustered and annoyed.

“Nope, Pidge is right kiddo. Well, minus the language.” Shiro is grinning proudly.

“That’s so cool dude.” Hunk says and Lance can’t help but agree.

>>>

It turns out Keith is not nearly as cool on the ice, ironically enough.

Hesitant to go, Lance had stuck around to assist Allura with a class of preteens while Shiro was teaching Keith. He had seemed graceful enough at the beginning of the lesson, nailing every move Shiro threw at him – he even managed some jumps that were definitely not in the beginner’s course. A few waltz jumps, some Salchow jumps and Shiro even throws in a toe loop. Keith doesn’t land it at all, but Lance is impressed all the same.

Keith seems to fall apart when Shiro introduces the turns – they’re pretty simple one and two foot spins but Keith can’t seem to get the hang of them. Lance watches as Keith gets more and more frustrated, clenching his fists and gritting his teeth. Lance can’t help but wonder how someone with so many gold medals in dancing can’t manage some simple turns that he teaches seven-year-olds regularly.

Keith is pushing himself up from another failed turn when Shiro gets a call. His face pales and he quickly calls over Allura. They exchange some words before he beckons over Keith and, to his surprise Lance as well.

“What is it?” Keith says, concern etched in his features. It’s the first time Lance has seen Keith without his harsh glares and he thinks the softness suits the other boy.

“Adam’s sick so I’ve got to go take care of him. It should all be fine but I still want to be there.” Shiro replies.

“It’s no problem, Shiro.” Keith assures him. “We can pick this up next week.”

“No actually, we were thinking Lance could finish off the lesson for you. He’s more than capable of coaching you.” They both stare at Allura in shock.

“I’m not-“ “I can’t-“ “It’s really okay-“ “I don’t think-“

“Oh hush now! You’re both already here. I can handle this class on my own, Lance.” They’re about to disagree again but she holds up a hand. “Come on, you’re both mature individuals. I think you will both benefit from this. And who knows? Maybe Lance can take a few more of your classes in the future to free up Shiro’s schedule more?”

Lance wants to protest but if he knows Allura at all, he knows she won’t back down. “Fine.”

He looks at Keith, who looks somewhat torn. Lance wonders what he’s thinking as he watches emotions flicker in those violet eyes. Finally he lets out a neutral “Whatever.”

Pleased with this answer, Allura shoos them off and Shiro hurries out after giving Lance some instructions for the rest of the class.

Lance turns to Keith. “So… Mullet. Welcome to Lance’s Master class. Let’s hope you can actually stick a turn by the end of this.”

What Lance was beginning to recognise as Keith’s signature glare slid onto the other’s face. “Fuck off, beanpole.”

Well, this was going to be a long hour.

>>>

Keith’s backside is bruised as hell by now and he’s sure Lance’s voice is almost raw from yelling, their egos both a little hurt.

Shiro had given them a small routine-type combination with some swizzles, glides, a bunch of cross overs, a waltz jump and a scratch spin to finish.

It’s clear that Lance’s stupid yelling isn’t helping Keith at all and while he prides himself on the impressive ability to pick up details from watching a demonstration, it’s not enough.

“SHOULDERS BACK!” “I’M TRYING ASSHOLE!”

Keith winces as he bites the dust once again. They should just give up before he’s actually tempted to claw Lance’s eyes out.

Scrambling to his feet, he sees Lance skate away out of the corner of his eye. Relief rises in his stomach, mixed with… disappointment? Keith doesn’t have time to address those confusing feelings before Lance is gliding back towards him. Although, Keith thinks, he doesn’t appear to be stopping.

Suddenly, Lance is right in his personal space and Keith can’t breathe.

“What the hell are you doing?” Keith sputters.

Lance shoots him that smile that makes his heart melt and Keith can feel his breath on his own cheeks. “You trust me, right?”

Keith slowly nods, trying not to think about the implications of that. His heart is beating too fast and too loud for his brain to keep up with Lance right now.

Lance swerves behind him a little further away this time and places a hand between his shoulder blades. There’s a layer of clothing between them, but Keith swears his back burns from the contact.

“Draw your shoulders down and extend this space between you shoulder blades. Yeah, that’s perfect. Now I’m going to hold my hand here for part of the routine and when I let go, try to remember the feeling of my hand there.” Lance explains calmly. His voice is low and smooth, and Keith can see stars.

Trying to focus, Keith draws his attention to the point on his back, trying to ignore the heat of Lance’s hand. They weave their way through most of the routine; Lance never loses contact despite the circular pathways and many changes in directions. He has to admit; the physical reminder of where he needs to focus his extension is really helping, especially when his arms are out or he’s in the midst of changing direction.

As the waltz jump approaches, Keith feels the hand disappear from his back.

“Remember where my hand was!” Lance calls out. Keith isn’t likely to forget. The print of Lance’s hand is burned into his skin.

Taking a deep breath, he focuses in and takes off. Somehow, he lands the jump perfectly – well, the best he’s ever done at least. Keith vaguely recognises that holding his posture while pushing so strongly with his legs, gives him the perfect line during the jump.

Lance whoops loudly in the background but Keith tunes him out: the turn is coming.

Remembering his posture, he launches straight into the scratch spin without any hesitation – if there’s one thing he’s learnt from dance, it’s that hesitation is the death of performance.

He turns once, his alignment is correct so far. On the second spin he can feel himself leaning off to one side so he pulls up and forces his shoulders down. Concentrating on that spot on his back, he manages to hold his balance for a few more turns and comes to a slow but controlled stop.

The exhilaration hits and Keith can’t help himself – he lets out short laugh, grinning wildly. It’s only a simple turn but Keith feels like he’s just won gold. There’s no crowd cheering, but Lance’s raucous whoops seem to have the same affect.

The next second, he’s enveloped in a hug, Lance still cheering so loudly, Keith thinks his eardrums might burst. Keith isn’t much of a hugger, but he can’t seem to bring himself to care as he basks in the glory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They're cute, aren't they?
> 
> Tis my birthday so I'm feeling nice - you get another chapter without having to wait months this time!  
> I hope y'all enjoy.  
> Feel free to leave any feedback 'cause it always helps.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked the first chapter, this work isn't meant to be that long but this is definitely only the first half of a two part series.
> 
> Love you all.


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